H! who has seen the mailèd lobster rise,
Clap her broad wings, and, soaring, claim the skies?
When did the owl, descending from her bower,
Crop, 'midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flower;
Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb,
In the salt wave, and fish-like strive to swim?
The same with plants—potatoes 'tatoes breed,
The costly cabbage springs from cabbage-seed;
Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks, succeed;
Nor e'er did cooling cucumbers presume
To flower like myrtle, or like violets bloom.
The Anti-Jacobin.
NE femme d'esprit m'a dit un jour un mot qui pourrait bien être le secret de son sexe; c'est que toute femme, en prenant un amant, tient plus de compte de la manière dont les autres femmes voient cet homme que de la manière dont elle le voit elle-même.
Chamfort, Maximes.
ERE, waiter, I'll dine in this box;
I've looked at your long bill of fare:
A Pythagorean it shocks
To view all the rarities there.
I'm not o'erburdened with cash,
Roast beef is the dinner for me;
Then why should I eat calipash,
Or why should I eat calipee?
Your trifle's no trifle, I ween,
To customers prudent as I am;
Your peas in December are green,
But I'm not so green as to buy 'em.
With ven'son I seldom am fed—
Go, bring me a sirloin, you ninny;
Who dines at a guinea a head
Will ne'er by his head get a guinea.
James Smith, Horace in London.
